take the skim milk, and let others have the cream.” So he considered how Mr. A. and Mr. B. could be induced to disgorge this money, and concluded that this end must be brought about by the same agency which had been instrumental to their investments in his favour—for from close observation, and from a comparison of certain coincidences, he had come to the conclusion that they had received their information that Culverstone was a good horse from a certain jockey called Jack Brown. The latter, living no great way off, used frequently to be at this establishment, and was often employed by Phil when he wanted to give a horse what is called a “Yorkshire gallop;” that is, a strong gallop in thin clothes, not a regular private trial, where the horses are prepared as for a race, by being “set;” viz., by giving them but very little food or water for some hours previous, to keep their wind as clear as possible. By these means, Phil’s first-rate judgment would enable him to form a pretty correct notion of what sort of stuff an animal was made, whose merits he had been trying to discover without exciting that sort of earwigging which always follows a regular trial in a stable; and it so happened that in one, and the only one, of these gallops that he had given Culverstone, he selected but one other horse to compete with him, their riders being Jack Brown and himself, on which occasion Culverstone won.
Now, although his suspicions rested in that quarter, he had no conclusive proof that they were correct; so he set to work to invent one of his ingenious traps, which at all events, if it did not discover to him who was Messrs. A. and B.’s informant, would at least have the effect of sending the horse to the right about in the betting, and thereby enable him and the stable party to back the horse on cheap terms; for he felt perfectly certain that no time would be lost, either by Jack Brown or by somebody else, in conveying to the above gentlemen any reasons that might arise for a change in the opinion originally expressed to them of the goodness of this horse.
Now, Phil Spott had one especial talent, which he possessed in an eminent degree beyond that of any other of his professionals in the racing saddle, and that was not only the power to form a most correct estimate of the relative capabilities of those horses that were running in the same race in which he was riding, but also, if necessary, to conceal the merits of his own. I do not, however, mean to say that he ever exercised this latter quality in any but a legitimate manner; for his fame was unsullied in this respect, and in his public performances he always did his best; and, as he used to say—“The Duke of Wellington and I win when we can:” but in the instance which I am about to relate, it will be seen with what success he exercised that power to the furtherance of those ends which he was so anxious to attain: viz., the return to the public market of those sums which, through private information surreptitiously obtained, had been absorbed by those who had no right to it. Accordingly, as the time progressed towards the debût of Culverstone in his engagement at Newmarket, and about three weeks or so before that event, he proceeded to bait his trap as follows.
At about this time of year, according as it happened that this great establishment had horses engaged, they used to have several private trials, in which some of those animals were tested only amongst themselves, and others with older horses, as they might deem advisable—the conquerors in these different trials, either then or later on, being pitted against each other, still further to solve the problem which was the best. Accordingly, in due course, it was arranged by Phil that a trial of several horses should take place a short time before the first appearance of Culverstone in public. Certain jockeys were written to, according to custom, with a request that they would come down on such a day to ride in a trial on the following morning, and of course in this number was included Jack Brown.
On the day appointed they all assembled, taking up their quarters over night at the trainer’s house, so as to be in readiness for the contest of the following morning, which was to take place as soon as ever sufficient light dawned for the purpose.
On these occasions, on the evening before, and not unfrequently after such events, Phil and the jockeys used to make a night of it, accompanied with much chaff about the respective animals they were to mount, and, on the occasion in question, by a previous arrangement, our facetious friend Phil and the trainer got up between them a bantering passage-of-arms about the merits likely to be developed in Culverstone, who it was settled was to be ridden by our hero on the morrow. The trainer contended warmly that he would acquit himself well, whereas Phil, on the other hand, ridiculed the idea of his turning out a good one, saying, “I’ll ask him a question or two to-morrow morning I don’t think he will be able to answer,” and much more to the same effect, that he would “cut up” badly. Our acquaintance Jack Brown rather winced at all this, having great faith in Phil’s excellent judgment, so he took an opportunity of quietly asking him why he had such a bad opinion of the horse after what he had seen him do some time before in the “Yorkshire gallop,” before alluded to, where he had acquitted himself so well.
“Aha!” said Phil to himself, “the plan begins to work well. You’re the tattler, Master Jack, sure enough; you tattled for yourself before, my lad, and now you shall, without knowing it, do a little tattling on my account; and the other coves in the trial may help you if they like, and the more they talk the better they’ll please me. Nobody rows in my boat this time but the General,” (as he used to call his relative, the trainer). So he said, in answer to Jack, “True enough. At the time, I thought Culverstone a rattler; but, since then, I’ve put the other prad that he beat that morning, through the mill, and he did not come out the colour I wanted, so I have shifted my money from off his back for the Derby.”
“But the governor” (meaning the trainer), “still thinks him a good horse,” said the now disconsolate Jack, who had not only been the informant to Messrs. A. and B., and induced them to back the horse for large sums, but had put on some of his own besides.
